Peter The Hermit

Never speak my name
I send you off to battle with no sacred chattel, but my wicked dogmas in thy brain
I know the will of god and what he say. Its filled with nothing but hate, thus we exterminate with the power of eight crusades
We plant the seeds of the killing fields, and then make our way
Lord, give me the strength, that I may decimate who desecrate
Thy will be done, with the force of a saint
Thy will be spoken with the forked tongue of clergyman and magistrate
Heavenly accolades only ever exasperate
My inner hunger to see the masses all dangling, half off stakes
I oppress with a vehemence, and any heretic whos in my way
Get straight disintegrated, by his loving grace
Im swinging like a mace. You a public disgrace
Humiliated, by the all knowing nature of my faith
Ye be cast with those who be not saved
It is much too late to repent, my child, even if you really pray
God hath me made an invicible snake
I see no quinces in my vision, only rotting grapes
Heresy is a plague
My monestery crush every creature within its wake
Awake, and feel my pain
Only those chosen by him remain
Chosen by me
Chosen by the hand that sign the treatise of great disdain
For the souls of mortal mane
Lord, have mercy for every heretic who hath been slain, but I see no mercy in thy fate
Heaven doesnt got a ghetto, but it rains all day, to the point it got rust on the gates
God sits on throne made of human bone, from those he cast into the lake
Every single angel up in heaven sing a song so great, it exceed the definition of praise
And when his eyes fall upon his only begotten seed by his side, he drop his seed and waits

Let it fall down to the floor
I treat my world like a
Filthy Babylonian whore
Somnium noir
Dark dreams open the mind
But its in your court
If you choose to open it more
You better kill me before the illusion sets in
You will not win this war